Watson Just Get In The Bed
by Crazyfangirl23
Summary: Sherlock is alone in bed and when John comes to check on him, he gets captivated by his eyes and his 'perfect cheekbones' as he once said.


Watson...Just Get In The Bed

John opened the door to the darkened bedroom, pausing a moment at the door to appreciate the sleeping figure curled up in the bed. A faint smile that no one could have seen flickered on his face, and he approached the bed carefully. He could just about see the black curls protruding from underneath the covers, and John lingered there just a moment longer, almost to make it a little embarrassing. But John hardly cared. He patted and touched the covers longer than would have been necessary and he could feel Sherlock's attire through the material. He straightened back up, forcing himself to turn around and back out the room, knowing he need his rest. But as soon as he did a soft voice mumbled his name. He turned back round slowly, and wondered if it was possible that someone else was in the room. But it was only him and Sherlock. His voice had sounded...angelic, gentle, nowhere near the delicate yet almost foreboding way with which he usually talked.

He rolled over to face him, the duvet pulled up to his neck. Again, clear as a bell, he said it.

'John...'

He had never heard Sherlock say his name in such a tone before, but it was enough to make him walk back over to the bed.

'Yes?'

'Come here.'

'What?'

'I need your opinion on the mattress. I potentially need it changed, as the weight of it would now imply that it has lost it's stuffing, the material used to make it has now worn out from forty days of use and the sheet pulled over it was bought cheaply, making it loose and annoying whenever it comes undone from the mattress. Furthermore, the springiness of the mattress is very disappointing, and the texture is a lot rougher than it should be. Your thoughts?'

'Sherlock...I am not testing your mattress out for you while you're still in it.'

'I need an opinion so I can put them together and approximate a pros and cons on wherever to buy a new one.'

'Well, I'm not buying it for you.'

'I'll get Mrs. Hudson to.'

'She's paying off too much.'

'Lestrade?'

'Used most of the money on a new water dispenser that no one has yet found a way to dispense properly.'

'Mycroft?'

He narrowed his eyebrows at him.

'He's not going to buy a mattress for you.'

'Well, why don't I have any money?'

'Because you work as a detective for free and the last time you possessed money you bought a cluedo game you eventually stabbed and pinned to the wall.'

'It was cheating. I knew who the murderer was.'

'Right...'

A silence ensued and John realised he was staring into his pale blue eyes a little too much. But he couldn't look away, because he had suddenly become entrapped by them. His lips were pressed together and his hair was a messy bedhead that desperately needed fingers threaded through. John swallowed at the though, trying to push it away.

'Watson...just get in the bed.'

John stood there a moment longer with his arms folded, but eventually slid in next to Sherlock and tested the mattress.

'Yes, maybe you should consider buying a new one.'

'Okay then.'

There was something in his eyes that made them sparkle despite the blackness around the room.

He stared too long and with a interrupting cough he sat up and climbed out of the bed.

'No John...stay.' He pleaded.

His embarrassingly perfect cheekbones and lips moved in synchronisation as he said the words and John wanted nothing but to hear it repeatedly forever.

He slowly placed his head on the soft pillow, giving up on fighting his emotional state and intentions.

'Dr. John Watson...'

He said lightly, looking at every part of his face with extreme concentration, the parting of his neat hair, his slightly raised eyebrows and his ears that stuck out awkwardly.

But he didn't seem to mind.

Sherlock's arm slowly snaked around his thin frame and John's body froze, his touch making his skin tingle embarrassingly. He shuffled closer so they were nose to nose, and his arms fully encircled him into a hug. John was alarmed at first, but then melted in his arms, returning the gesture to Sherlock just as tight and protectively.

'Sherlock?'

'Yes, John?'

'Are you wearing any clothes?' He asked fearfully.

'I have my sheet on.'

'Oh god.' He said, trying to withdraw but his senses not letting him. All he wanted was to keep holding on tight to his muscly arms.

A feeling in the pit of his stomach bubbled, and he felt so much more at ease with Sherlock than he ever had with anyone else. To his shocking surprise, John entrapped him with another hug and Sherlock unexpectedly nuzzled his shoulder. Reaching out fearlessly, his fingers embedded themselves into his black curls experimentally, and Sherlock released a relieving sigh. John's fingers swept through the mass of hair, while his other fingers danced along the revealed strip of skin between the sheet and his neck. Sherlock gripped him tighter and placed a light and delicate kiss on his neck. Watson ruffled his hair in response and Sherlock replied with a stroke to his own hair. And so a competition of touches and hugs and small kisses lead to one enormous cuddle that relaxed the both of them and made them forget everything, even their own names.

When John finally withdrew to look into Sherlock's rippling sea eyes, he smiled, becoming ensnared and captivated like the victim of a hypnotist.

'I'll buy you that mattress.' He said, and Sherlock's laugh sounded in his ear and rang repeatedly through his head.


End file.
